Disclaimer: Star trek Voyager doesn't belong to me, neither does the concept for the mirror universe.
Summary: Here's the companion piece! I know I said I may or may not... so here goes. Constructive reviews only, please.
He's lost track of the days.
The only constant is the hum of the ship and the rain of blows. He is sure he has at least four cracked ribs, massive internal injuries and a broken ankle. He's initially surprised that his face has been largely left alone, but on further reflection, he realises that he shouldn't be.
She likes his face.
He hasn't heard her say it, but it's the only way to explain why he can still see, and why he's still in full possession of all his teeth.
Harry isn't the vainest of individuals, but it's one of the few things he's grateful for. Chakotay hadn't feared nearly as well the last time he'd courted the Captain's wrath.
Harry's never been scared of physical punishment; he's ticked off more than his fair share of superiors in his career, and so he's developed various coping mechanisms to deal with the pain.
What gets to him was psychological torture, and she knows that. It's why she sent him to Deck 12 instead of sticking him in the booth.
He doesn't hate her for putting him here, and in fact, he'd expected a much more gruesome punishment. Admittedly, his two co-conspirators hadn't been so fortunate, but they knew the risks of the plan months before its execution.
He'd masterminded the idea, but they'd made it look like it was Lindsay's idea. After all, she was a known Klingon sympathiser, which was why he'd gone to her.
Amid the steady shower of blows, Harry found time to mourn her death. He'd watched her slow murder in the now empty cell in front of him, immensely grateful for his cast iron stomach.
As they had removed what had remained of the woman, he's been sure the same fate had awaited him, never mind his occupation. A traitor was a traitor.
Harry was, however, no ordinary traitor. He didn't even think the word applied to him, simply because his first loyalty was not-nor had it ever been- to the Empire, at least not to the Empire he currently lives in.
He's part of a small movement to crumble the Empire within.
His parents had been a part of Spock's underground movement as had their parents. Not only was the Empire corrupt, it would destroy itself if they didn't complete the task first. The Klingons had been quite touched by their admittedly small band's sense of honour, and they'd been slowly supporting each other when they could.
Right, now, however, his only goal is survival.
He's figured Captain Janeway will take him back eventually, but he does have contingency plans should she not.
He'd bide his time, be extra careful. Once he's recovered, he'll contact Korath, see what the old Klingon has in mind. No doubt he'd be quite upset at Lindsay's passing.
When the blows end, harry doesn't know. Eventually, he finds himself looking up from his prone position on the floor into the dispassionate gaze of Commander Tuvok.
The dark Vulcan watches him struggle to get to his feet, not at all an easy task, considering his ankle and countless other injuries he's no doubt dying from.
He feels weak, lightheaded, but he does manage to stand, levelling his own dispassionate stare right back at the Commander.
"Report to sickbay, Mr. Kim. There is a staff briefing in half an hour, you're expected to attend. I would also suggest a sonic shower, and a shave."
The man is gone before he can retort. Tuvok has never liked him, he knows that, especially since Harry became the Captain's... personal project. As it is now, he doesn't have the energy to worry much about it.
As he limps toward sickbay, grateful for the deserted corridors, he plans his next move.
After all, the mssion never ends.